


Hope

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Infidelity [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Drunken Confessions, Hope, Infidelity, M/M, National Sciles Day, Reconciliation, Sciles, Single Dad Scott, Teen Wolf AU, dubiously consensual making out, married Stiles, mentions of adultry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Single Dad!Scott falling hard for his neighbor Stiles. Stiles who doesn’t yell when his twin boys decide their yard isn’t big enough and go traversing through his yard. Stiles who helps calm the twins down when Scott has his first bad asthma attack in years. Stiles who takes the twins trick-or-treating because Scott can’t get off work no matter how hard he begs. Stiles who explains to the twins about how Scott may love someone new but would never replace their Mother, even if she is in heaven. The Stiles who’s kisses make him feel like he’s a teenager falling in love for first time. The same Stiles who’s married and expecting his first child. <a href="http://imaginesciles.tumblr.com/post/99410317196/single-dad-scott-falling-hard-for-his-neighbor">Prompt from ImagineSciles</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3/3 of Infidelity. (Sorry about the chapter confusion, I can't seem to delete that bit!)

“I screwed up.”

Scott had had tried to brush the snow from the bench, but he could still feel the freezing wetness soak through his jacket and down the back of his pants. It would have been more comfortable anywhere else, but he hadn’t counted on the snowstorm and he needed to talk with someone who would actually listen for a change. News traveled faster in a small town than he’d realized and the whispers always seemed pitched just so he could hear them.

_Slut. Broke up those nice Stilinskis. Did you hear she was eight months pregnant at the time? What kind of man does that to another man, especially one with a pregnant wife. Manwhore. Do you know he actually has kids of his own? Someone should take them away, I can’t imagine what that pervert is teaching them._

It was his fault. He hadn’t known before when Stiles had kept that part of his life a secret and however much it hurt to be lied to, Scott had walked into this with both eyes open. He’d made a choice and it had been a wrong one. He wasn’t some innocent kid seduced off the street, he’d been angry and hurt and made a sad decision that could have been the best decision of his life if things had just been different.

“I think I loved him.”

Being lonely wasn’t an excuse, he was supposed to be better than this. The worst part was, he still thought about the way Stiles’s hands trailed bruises like kisses down his body and the way it felt to finally felt to give in. He never thought he could feel that way again after Allison, there was never supposed to be an after Allison, but Stiles had set something in him on fire and it had slowly burned him alive. It wasn’t fair! Stiles wasn’t supposed to come barreling into his life with that stupid smile and those awful jokes that always made him laugh no matter how lame they really were. He wasn’t supposed to be so good with the twins, getting them both to smile like they used to before they lost her.  He wasn’t supposed to come over with his sci-fi movies and sarcasm until the boys could quote every line of Star Wars and pancakes on Sunday morning became a thing. He wasn’t supposed to make him think about a future that he never knew he wanted so badly, dangling it out in front of him until he learned how to hope again and then taking it all away.

Scott couldn’t even blame him. Stiles had fucked up and Scott had kept pushing, picking at the wound and never letting it heal until it swallowed them both. He carded his hands through damp black hair, snowflakes clinging for a moment before melting against the heat of his skin. It wasn’t just him, gossip had a way of filtering down to the innocents and when Parker had come home with a bloody nose, both twins in tears, Scott had to try and explain what whore meant to his children. Parents talked and their kids listened, hatred passed down into ones who didn’t understand anything but the fact their mothers and fathers didn’t like the McCalls. They parroted words without understanding the meaning, cruel and uncaring as kids could be to anyone they saw as different. It broke something inside of Scott to know his children thought they had to defend him.

“It was a mistake, I don’t know what to do anymore. I know this isn’t the kind of thing we should talk about, but I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do anymore, it’s all just some fucking mess and…and I don’t want to love him. Why can’t I just stop?” The man bowed his head, shoulders hunched forward as he was crushed by his own guilt. He hadn’t spoken to Stiles since that horrible night six weeks ago, just stammered apologies and grabbed his clothes, fleeing across the yard like some teenager caught by his girlfriend’s parents. There’d been calls and texts, both ignored until they finally stopped all together.

The man stood stiffly, knees cracking and brushing off the snow from his pant legs. “I’m sorry.” Scott murmured, tracing his finger across scripted “A” carved into the cold granite. “I let you down, Allison. That’s the one thing I never wanted to do.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaving the bright red bouquet of Christmas poinsettias by the headstone as he walked back to the car.

Christmas loomed and the little neighborhood in suburban Beacon Hills was the epitome of holiday excess. Bright lights blinked in every color, mechanical reindeer slowly surveyed the light dusting of snow and baleful blowup Santas flopped dramatically in the breeze. Scott closed up the animal clinic for the night, turning out the lights in the waiting room festooned with dog bone garlands.

“You’re sure you’re okay to take care of the boarded animals? I don’t mind helping.”

“Dr. Alan Deaton smiled, waving the young man on. “You do too much, Scott. You have kids waiting for you, go home.”

Scott murmured his thanks, grateful to have such an understanding partner. He’d really lucked out with Deaton, his colleague was a quiet and patient man who was always willing to offer advice over a cup of coffee and was more generous than he deserved. He’d never mentioned the gossip in town, greeting his younger protégé with the same calm smile and professionalism that Scott treasured. It felt like there was at least one safe place left in his life. “I’ll see you after the holiday then, I have you have a Merry Christmas.”

Deaton raised his eyebrows, refusing to comment on Scott’s jingly felt reindeer antler headband. “You too, don’t celebrate  _too_ hard.”

“No idea what you mean.” He laughed, grabbing his hat and bundling up against the cold. In truth, he might have been overdoing the Christmas spirit just a little bit. Last year, they hadn’t been able to celebrate with Allison’s death so recent. He’d done his best for the boys, but the day had been quiet and lonely without her laughing as she pulled the boys out of bed by their ankles and make hot cocoa and chocolate chip pancakes for everyone before presents. Then an afternoon of the whole family playing with every toy they’d given the kids before a trip over to see the grandparents for dinner. He always said Allison gave the boys things  _she_  wanted to play with just so the two of them could have viciously competitive video game challenges once Sam and Parker fell asleep. Her parents didn’t help either, the year they gave the twins individual drum sets, Chris had clasped Scott on the shoulder and he’d never been more sure in his life that his father-in-law hated him. Victoria tried to be more subtle about it, but they never talked about the rubber stamp kit incident when the boys were six.

If he tried to make this Christmas special, then he had good reason. This was supposed to be their chance to start over and be happy again, a new home, a new town and then…well, he had to screw it up. He wasn’t going to let his mistakes ruin the boys’ first Christmas in Beacon Hills, even if he ran up his electric bill on a ridiculously complicated lawn display and had movie marathons of every Christmas movie he could think of. Scott was sure he knew every single word of A Christmas Story by now. The boys seemed like they were enjoying things, though he didn’t know if they were just trying for his sake and it broke his heart.

“If the two of you don’t get to bed soon, then Santa’s just going to have to pass this house and go on to the next one.”

“Daaaad.” Parker rolled his eyes, trying to be more mature than his years would allow. “There’s no such thing as Santa.”

“Don’t say that!” Sam punched his brother in the arm. “Dude, he’s  _watching_.”

Scott laughed and wiggled his fingers creepily. “Always watching. Always knowing.”

“Daaaaaad!” They groaned in chorus. “Please, can’t we stay up just a little bit more?”

“Nope, it’s time for bed.” Scott scooped a twin up under each arm as they squealed and flailed, carrying them upstairs and plopping them down in their room. “No whispering either, if I see a flashlight under the door, I’m sending up the Christmas Boogeyman up to eat the both of you.”

Sam snorted, shoving his brother off the bed. “There’s no such thing as the Christmas Boogeyman.”

“There sure is! He’s Santa’s ticked off little brother Klaus Kringle and he goes around giving people cabbages and old cheese and other things that smell like farts for Christmas. You thought coal was bad, wait until he leaves you both a brick of limburger in your stockings. Not that you’d be able to tell, you’re both pretty farty as it is.”

Parker put his hands over his mouth and blew a wet raspberry, Sam joining in a minute later. Scott refused to be left out, tackling the boys and making fart noises against their bellies until they were exhausted from laughing. “Now go to sleep, you little monsters or it’s stinky cheese for the both of you. Grandma’s coming tomorrow and we can’t have you smell bad.” He closed the door, listening to the two of them make muffled fart noises under the covers and smiled to himself. A+ parenting, Allison would have been so grossed out which had often been a goal. She would have loved this, she would have…

Grief was a complicated thing. He was getting so good at keeping it at bay, but it had this nasty habit of sneaking up on him when it was late and the rest of the house was dark. Scott quietly made his way back down stairs, curling up on the couch and watching the tv flicker with Santa vs the Aliens.  _Merry Christmas, Allison. We’re doing okay, we just miss you._

Scott jumped at the sharp pounding knock at the door, bolting up from the couch and skidding to the front hallway before the sound could wake the twins. He yanked the door open, heart thudding in panic. “…Stiles?  _What the hell_ , man? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

The other man reeked of alcohol, hair flattened down and wet from snow and shivering. “Scott, I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. Dude, I-…she…”

He knew better, but when had that ever mattered where Stiles Stilinski was involved. Scott pulled the man into his house and shut the door, leading him over to the couch and wrapping a knit blanket around his shoulders. “You’re freezing. Stiles, you need to be more careful.” Scott’s voice was more gentle than he thought possible. It was hard to be angry with the shivering, pathetic mess soaking through his blanket. “Just relax, whatever it was, you’re okay.”

“S’not okay, Scott.” Stiles sniffed, sounding lost. “Got the divorce papers today. Merry fucking Christmas, right? She wants full custody, she had a girl and I didn’t-I didn’t know. She didn’t tell me. I’m a father and I’ve never even seen her and now I won’t and I lost them, Scott. I lost them both and I lost you and I don’t know what to do.” He back bowed, hands fisted in his hair as he broke down and sobbed. He never wanted Scott to see him like this, but he couldn’t bear to go back to that empty house and know he’d ruined it all.  Putting it all on Scott wasn’t fair, but he was drunk and the world had fallen apart around him and Scott was this amazing, beautiful ray of light when everything was so freaking shitty. Stiles made a strangled noise as Scott wrapped an arm around him, feeling even worse. Of  _course_  he would. He’d ruined Scott’s life too and here he was, comforting him like Stiles deserved anything.

“I’m sorry.” The words were slurred and broken, leaning into the warmth and safety of Scott’s arms though he had no right to them. “It’s my fault, s’all my fault.”

“It’s not all your fault, Stiles. I’m not some kind of innocent you seduced, I made my own choice.”

“Still shoulda told you. I shoulda told…I love you Scott and I fu-fucked it up. Fucked up everything. Didn’t wanna hurt her but you, fuck you. You have this smile, man and I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to keep you smiling because I was happy for the first time in years and I ruined it all.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” He couldn’t have this argument tonight, his heart was vulnerable and he couldn’t go through all the lies again.

“I should go home.”

“Are you kidding? You’ll freeze to death in your front yard the way you are. I’ll take you back tomorrow, right now you’re going to sleep off whatever god awful stuff you drank.”

Stiles nodded, catching Scott’s chin with long fingers as the other man went still. He traced along the warm brown skin with ice cold fingertips, finding perfection in each imperfect line. “I love you, Scott.”

“Stiles-”

“I love you.” He insisted, eyes a liquid amber brown and cheeks a blotchy red. “I could have told you, but I didn’t because I thought I’d lose you and then I lost you anyways. I’ve never been really good at knowing how to care about people, maybe that’s why it never really worked with Heather. I’m selfish and I lash out, but you make me want to try, Scott. Scotty. I don’t know if I can and you’re too good for me, but you make me wish I was better.”

“You’re an asshole, Stiles. You lied to me and led me on, I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Stiles deflated, the wind kicked out of him in a rush. “I get it.”

“You love me?”

“Does it matter, Scott?”

“It matters to me.”

He glanced up at Scott, hesitating and unsure if that meant more that his friend was saying or if it was just wishful thinking. This was a bad idea, but he could do bad ideas. He was the goddamn king of bad ideas. Stiles slid out of the blanket, shifting closer until he was straddling the other man and just waiting for Scott to shove him off. It wasn’t fair how perfectly their hips could lock together or the way he could feel the warmth of Scott’s hands through his cold, wet jeans as the moved up his thighs. “I love you.” He pressed the words against Scott’s plush mouth, soft and pink in that way that drove him crazy. They parted for him and a shiver ran down his spine as he took advantage with all the fearlessness of alcohol and desperation. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I love-”

The words were swallowed in Scott’s mouth, lost in a groan as those capable hands slipped beneath his damp shirt and burned like a brand against his frozen back. It was like Scott’s touch could strip away the pain, promises written in his skin with a gentle, hesitant touch so different than the last time they’d torn at each other intent on destruction. “Can I stay? Can we try? I just wanna see you smile again.”

Scott pulled him down into soft couch cushions and Stiles let himself fall.

Soft voices managed to worm their way through the fog, a clink of china and a muffled giggle. Stiles screwed his eyes tightly, trying to block them out before giving up with a sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face, blinking his eyes open in confusion as he tried to orient himself.  _What the hell?_

“Morning, Mr. Stilinski.” Two sets of dark brown eyes stared into his and he squawked in surprise, flailing so hard he tipped off the couch. “Merry Christmas!”

“Christmas? Uh, yeah. Merry Christmas, munchkins. What the ti-, what happened?”

“Pancakes happened.” Scott padded barefoot into the living room wearing low slung sweatpants and a completely unfair tank top that Stiles decided should be a new mandatory dress code. He set plates on the coffee table and sat down on the couch so close that Stiles imagined he could feel the heat radiating from his body. “It’s a McCall family tradition, chocolate chip pancakes and presents on Christmas morning.”

“Oh.” Bits and pieces of last night came back and he flushed, running his hands through his hair to smooth down the mess. “I should probably go then, I don’t want to intrude. Thanks for taking care of me last night, I appreciate it. I won’t bother you again.”

“Sit back down, Stiles.” Scott said patiently, sipping his coffee. “Stay for breakfast at least.”

“You’re sure?” There was so much hope in those words that Stiles was embarrassed with himself, folding his body back on the couch as the twins attacked the boxes under the tree. “You really want me to stay?” He asked quietly so the boys wouldn’t hear.

Scott gave him a small smile and handed him a plate. “Start with pancakes. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

 _McCall family tradition?_  He thought as he stuffed his face and cautiously leaned into Scott’s space, grinning as Sam and Parker unwrapped brand new fancy lightsabers and immediately set to work chasing each other through the wrapping paper tumbleweeds.  _There were worse places to start._

**Author's Note:**

> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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